out of Context;
‘the game is afoot, my dear witness… there is abundance in the fields of our imagination, but we cater only to those retarded minions who fool themselves into thinking they have the power to stop it if they want to, however that is the lure in which to reel them all in… the doomed have their many uses, but generally are not all that smart until the time comes to learn, even morons can swing the cat by the tail… the siren serene as howls grow more unrelenting still, and the pigs take all that they can get and more until they split, very few people rarely ever talk with a grown-up voice… that balancing equation is too wrong of man as instrument of fate…’
out of Context;
‘the ego-driven majority planning assaults on the human psyche… we must end this diseased oppression that makes the sickness too serious to bear by this society as a whole, and it is the fault of the individual in not bringing to the forefront the wrongs to be corrected in the capitalist cesspool, our money is nowhere to be found in our pockets as labor translates directly into sustainability… the dueling sides alive inside the divided person’s mind, conceive the fantastic strictness of which we uphold as holy this ideal of perfection unrelenting from the false god force that tries to ignite the world into flames…’
out of Context;
‘the ghosts in every room look at us much differently than we look at each other as flesh and bone creatures, their shadows are longer and resist the darkness as a means of transposing their substance which is now dark matter/ energy carrying the conscious as an intangible vessel, but these things we are only supposed to learn as fiction becomes real to all of our senses at once… the vanguard of the singularity, as though it were like a gateway to another dimension, is what one might term the ‘Singular’… at one time, the scales lift and lower to reveal the shock that comes with this transcendental growth that purges from our minds as though like a wave of particles shooting across the room from our mind’s eye…’
out of Context;
‘sometimes the state of reality is too overwhelming for the passionless mutants that stomp and wail against the perceived insult of actual human intelligence, but these inhumans have found their ways into political forums that dispose of the respect and credibility deserved of one who actually tries to motivate positive change… we are vain and we are blind, we hate people who are not polite, but a heavy reliance on this principle alone is false and leads a society astray… we quip and insult our way into taking advantage of others who we do not even know with factual evidence of their decency…’
out of Context;
‘leaving us trusting the false idols whose chatter forms a cacophonous mess from which it is quite difficult to discern whether to go or stay, the data is always in flux to feel out the weaknesses and impurities from within, and this action can betray the dense causality surrounding the precarious knowledge of information and the digital age as we go deeper… we embed ourselves in dark territories in order to overcome the harm inflicted by forces out of our control, the more we strike out among our enemies the more respect we naturally harvest from this cruel plateau to which we have succumb, but there are still mysteries that will evade conscious analysis and classification…’
out of Context;
‘to confuse and access a very different alignment of facts as food for the digestion of real parts to translate into the fake or imaginary realms implanted for growth like a seed… we spent the previous week in odd anticipation of the event even though it was unconfirmed whether we were to meet the band after the show or not, and it seems that wristbands make the idiots stand out more for their love of gloom-infused darkly poetic music when fellow gathered gothic twats vie for a spot on the coveted ‘meet-and-greet’ line-up, where the lead singer of the group was quoted saying, “…10 minutes. no bullshitting, no stories…”…’
out of Context;
‘as the wage to meet the slave seems less by degrees that the people have tried to subvert, but the accent of these fiends surrounding the whole parade twists minds just as surely into their greed, flapping and buzzing with satisfaction under their demonic wings… to subvert them as a whole one must begin to subvert the symbols they grant us, sigils of all manner to be displayed against their wicked wiles like stronger crosses and various veves held to keep the wolves and vampires at bay, but within a powerful personal paradigm of belief provoked into being a salve to the withering intents of those sole eaters… ever-devouring hollow beings that come to this earth without a compassionate concern…’
out of Context;
‘a delivery of free random verse about the various possessive ways wicked to the good character of the social beast that the human animal can be when there are few rules applied to these interactive situations requiring the being of human, civil and calm to better assess the activities derived from the ‘party down’ mentality, but few realize this is the primal tent pole sticking out of the ground… underneath the tent we are presenting a revival, or perhaps more aptly the devival of authoritative powers that be…’
out of Context;
‘organizing the thoughts in order of their priority, even as the priorities shift from one hand to the other, but what impedance from this charging tirade out of the mouth of the philosophers stoned… to extol that an inkling of the just and righteous is within me is purely false advertising on my part, but there are other parts to perhaps look toward when contemplating a phuture so phat and deep with a sleeping fortune of tortured contortions, the imagination stirs a beast that waits in the farthest shadow reaches of personal time and space…’
out of Context;
‘the sluggish inner dimension blown wide open for the furnace chamber it is, the heart centered at the top of the ribs, and the pulse a dead beat rising in rhyme to the reason twisting the corpse alive… the labyrinthine threads through which the needle eye accepts only a few, the straws that break the camel’s back, and your mother becomes suddenly struck awake and alive as well… up through that rotted birth canal which we all jettison through, the womb has no other choice than to obey the fist, this the where the creative purge comes in handy, so-to-speak… the Slow Children are not necessarily retarded children, but merely socially unacceptable mental cases to some degree, this is the haunting realism to the situation currently prescribed the vacant mind through a spastic reflex media…’